


Heated Discussion

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alpha Charles Xavier, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, Exhibitionism, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Erik Lehnsherr, Top Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Professor Lehnsherr is an omega and Professor Xavier is an alpha, but somehow in the weeks they've known each other, the issue has never come up....





	Heated Discussion

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this meme answer](http://ikeracity.tumblr.com/post/177153655554/now-your-turn-your-top-5-kinks-the-sexy-kind) by ikeracity ;)

Erik has only known Charles Xavier for a few weeks, but it feels like he’s known him forever. 

His fellow professor is short, stocky, a conservative but sharp dresser, in possession of a thick head of hair and a lot of charm. He’s a past master at debate (which is why he and Erik do such a good job of running the debate club, something for which they’ve already become notorious, given their lively discussions), and also at chess, which they’ve played an extraordinary number of times since they’d met, and which they are doing again this evening. And he’s a powerful telepath, as powerful of one as Erik is a metallokinetic. 

Charles is also an alpha.

It’s gone unspoken between them, amazingly enough. It’s been a mercifully long time since Erik has actively cycled, his body apparently not feeling the urge to go into heat, and Charles’ alpha scent is subtle. He’s in fact the most lowkey alpha Erik has ever seen, which truth be told stimulates a constant undercurrent of curiosity in him. One might at first mistake Charles for a beta, or an omega, or some sort of failed, weak alpha. But Erik had quickly realized that wasn’t it at all—Charles is an alpha with no need to show aggression or constantly remind others of his status. Erik would be lying if he said the casual reserve of power didn’t turn him on at all.

But it’s so subtle, and so unimportant compared to their actual relationship, that Erik doesn’t really dwell on it. Although he’s caught Charles giving him appraising looks in the past, noticed his nostrils flaring to take in his scent when he walked by, nothing more has ever been made of anything. Easy to ignore.

None of it matters, anyway; Erik long ago put to rest the idea of ever finding a suitable alpha. It was a hard thing to accept, but he eventually understood no one was up to his standards. 

Tonight he’s felt off, almost as if he’s coming down with something. He shifts in his chair, feeling suddenly as though the air is too close, or his clothes are too restrictive, too warm. Strange, but then, as it’s winter Charles does have a fire going in his study. He sits back with a quiet sigh.

“All right, my friend?” Charles asks, taking a sip of brandy, leaning forward to set the glass down and looking at him intently, sharp concern in his blue eyes. “I beg your pardon but I can sense you’re a bit distressed.”

“It’s nothing,” Erik says, but he pulls at the fabric of his turtleneck, revealing his skin down to the notch of his collarbone before he realizes it. He glances at Charles and sees him go still, nostrils flaring slightly as he practically stares a burning spot onto Erik’s neck. Erik, like most omegas who aren’t actively looking for partners, tends to keep his neck hidden, not intending to provide any temptation. Besides, it’s much more alluring to keep one’s neck concealed. Not that he’s looking to lure anyone; he just knows what looks good on him, that’s all.

Although he can feel a flush suffusing his skin, Erik ignores the look and returns to his play. Charles says nothing about it, and takes his turn.

It’s a very close game, with the potential to go on for ages, keeping Erik further and further from going home, stripping off, taking a cool bath and going to bed.

But Erik does win eventually, and under Charles’ observant gaze he says his goodbyes and goes home for said cool bath and bed.

It only helps so much.

The next morning, he’s feeling worse, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed and rut against the sheets. Surely he can’t be starting—he’s got too much to do, and he prides himself on never calling in sick. He decides to try and power through. It most likely won’t be too bad—surely he’s too old to have a really strong heat. It’s too bad he doesn’t have any suppressor on hand, but maybe he can get some over lunch break—as it is, he’s going to be late.

For his first classes, he’s subdued enough that he can tell the students are looking at him oddly. Never mind them. He decides he’s going to get through debate club meet and then leave—why debate club is the line, he’s not sure, but something in him wants to see Charles first. 

When he gets to the debate club room, Charles is facing away, talking to the students, hands in his pockets. As he enters, Erik acutely hears Charles inhale sharply, as he turns on his heel to stare at him.

Erik watches Charles stride over to him with the appearance of casualness; his “Erik?” serves both as an acknowledgement of his arrival as well as a question regarding whether he’s feeling all right. Erik nods, and swallows, mouth dry. 

Charles nods back, and walks away, saying something to the students about their topic—something about mutant rights, usually a favorite topic of Erik’s, one over which he and Charles can easily become heated. In his wake, catching Charles’ scent, Erik closes his eyes for a moment to taste it on his tongue—it’s stronger today than Erik has ever experienced it, and he follows Charles further into the room as if pulled by a string.

Charles directs the usual teams to begin debate practice, as if nothing’s amiss, and this time, even though this is a contentious topic for them anyway, in Erik’s frustration he finds himself quickly descending into pure arguing, starting to raise his voice, not letting the students control the debate as is their usual MO. Charles, he sees, is starting to get red in the face, and something in Erik relishes the fact that he’s getting a real reaction from him. Finally.

Erik’s shouting and Charles has raised his voice when Charles stops, pinching the bridge of his nose, and quietly says to the students: “I’m sorry but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask this meeting to adjourn. Professor Lehnsherr is a bit under the weather today and he and I have things to discuss.”

Looking startled, the students gather their things and take their leave. They’re used to Charles and Erik having animated discussions, but it’s never gone this far. Erik feels as though he’s burning up, and he wonders distractedly if any of them have noticed…. 

He realizes suddenly that he’s slick, that his underwear is wet. He might soak into his trousers soon if he doesn’t get out of here, get away from the alpha, from Charles, get home.

He starts to walk toward the door, but Charles, quick on his feet, steps in front of him, blocking the way. Charles puts his hand on the doorknob, turns the lock. 

“Charles—”

“Erik. Calm your mind.” Charles is looking at him intently, with an expression Erik has never seen before on him and can’t name. 

“I can blast the door apart, Charles, you know that.”

“I know you don’t want to,” Charles tells him. “I know you want to stay here, with me.” He steps closer until Erik’s backed against the desk at the front of the classroom, and Erik feels crowded, hot, like he wants to strip off, bare himself. “I want you to stay here too.” He reaches to touch Erik’s jaw, gently moving his fingertips along it, inhaling as Erik tilts his head back in response. Charles touches his fingertip to Erik’s pulse, and Erik stifles a moan. Smoothly, although Erik can sense his hand is shaking very slightly, Charles slides his hand to the nape of Erik’s neck, draws him down, and kisses him. Erik opens for him immediately, and at the touch of his tongue he feels himself gushing slickness. “Let me help you,” Charles whispers against his lips, quick, urgent yet still controlled before he nips at Erik’s lower lip, with his other arm pulling Erik’s body flush against him. He’s hard.

“Help me? Nothing in it for you, I suppose,” Erik manages, barely stopping himself from grinding against Charles.

“As I see it, we both benefit,” Charles says, kissing him again, grinding against Erik now, and with a helpless groan against his mouth Erik shifts his hips, seeking friction. Pressed between Charles and the desk, he’s starting to feel frantic. 

“Let’s get you out of these,” Charles whispers against his lips, tugging at his turtleneck, at his trousers.

Before Erik can protest at being stripped in a classroom, although he doesn’t truly want to protest it, Charles is pulling off his turtleneck, his square small hands roaming proprietarily over Erik in a way that causes indignation to swell in him. Charles has no right to handle him this way. He doesn’t belong to Charles. Charles isn’t his mate.... But those firm little hands don’t seem to understand that, and neither does Erik’s body, as said hands glide up and down the muscles on either side of Erik’s spine, over his stomach, fingers brushing his nipples. Charles is nuzzling his neck, nipping his skin and making Erik gasp, such that he almost doesn’t notice Charles unbuckling his belt and undoing his fly. 

He definitely notices when Charles plunges a hand down his backside, into his underwear, and involuntarily arches toward him as Charles becomes intimately aware of just how wet he is. Inhaling, Charles groans, fingers intimately probing Erik’s hole. “Charles,” Erik gasps out, hoarse.

“You need this,” Charles grits out, tugging Erik’s trousers and underwear down out of his way, turning Erik to bend him over the desk. Erik can sense and hear Charles hastily getting his own trousers and underwear out of the way. He’s still surprised into making a loud and undignified noise when Charles’ thick cock sinks entirely into him in one smooth push, Charles’ hips pressing flush against him, with a low groan. Charles rocks him forward into the desk, and Erik grips the edge for dear life. 

Of course Charles’ stocky build and solid legs and hips mean he’s got a good bit of power in him, even if he’s shorter than Erik. 

Erik realizes by the metal he can feel on their bodies that there are people outside the locked door, gathering, no doubt wondering why the door is locked and what’s causing that thumping sound (that would be the legs of the desk against the floor, something else he can sense with his power as well as hear and feel) and who’s in there grunting (that would be mostly Erik). 

It’s not as though public or semi-public matings are particularly unusual, but… in broad daylight, at one’s workplace? It’s not ideal, and Erik’s heat cloud isn’t so much of a fog that he’s not conscious of the situation. 

“Charles,” Erik gasps, “make them leave, shield us.”

“No,” Charles grunts back, surprising Erik. “I want them to hear, I want them to know what I’m doing to you.”

He has a point, or at least, something in Erik thinks so. Erik feels himself ripple around Charles, slickness spurting inside him as well as from his cock, pressed between his belly and the desk. Charles goes faster when he feels it, harder, rocking the desk. 

“At least make them forget afterward,” Erik gets out.

“No,” Charles answers, and although Erik doesn’t know if he means that or he’s just being provocative, the thought of it, of everyone outside knowing what’s happening and remembering it, knowing Professor Lehnsherr is in this locked classroom getting absolutely railed by Professor Xavier, getting claimed by him, makes Erik whimper, actually whimper. He clenches around Charles, who suddenly is thrusting faster and harder still and apparently closing his teeth on the skin of Erik’s upper back, and dizzily Erik realizes Charles is coming inside him, spurting and filling him with alpha come, so much that he can feel it oozing back out.

And then, before he knows it, Charles is swelling inside him. Oh, for the love of— Charles is going to knot him. He’s going to be knotted in this classroom like some helpless oversexed desperate omega—

Charles’ hand is flat on his back, holding him in place; Charles is breathing hard as his knot swells. Erik slumps; he’s going to be pinned like this until the knot goes down, kept on a razor’s edge of heightened need and desire, Charles locked inside him until his knot is good and ready to go down. And the room will be thick with the smell of their need, their sweat; anyone coming in afterward will know, they’re probably still outside right now gossiping, shocked, titillated. Erik letting himself be taken half-naked in a classroom during the school day by a mostly clothed Charles, like some common whore, desperately slick for Charles, letting Charles fill him with his come and knot him like some… like….

Charles is rubbing his hand up and down Erik’s sweat-slick back, rough yet somehow soothing, somewhat agitated and speechless for the normally composed and charming Professor Xavier. Erik can, unbelievably, still feel little spurts of him coming, and the thought of Charles being so virile makes him dizzy with want even as he rolls his eyes at himself somewhere inside. Charles’ knot is sizable, and Erik can’t help rolling his hips just a little bit to relish the feeling of fullness. He can only hope Charles isn’t reading his mind; Charles is smug enough as it is, and if he really knew how much Erik’s inner omega is enjoying this, he’d be insufferable. At the same time, however, he finds himself wishing he could feel Charles in his mind for this, thinking of how spectacular that must be. Next time, maybe. 

...Next time?

As Charles starts to gradually soften, one hand snakes around to Erik to wrap around his cock. Erik grasps the desk anew as Charles begins to wank him off, grip firm and relentless. With Charles’ cock still inside him, one hand tightening on the desk until he feels his fingers going stiff, he reaches back around toward Charles with his other hand, for what he does not know until Charles intercepts him with his free hand and works his fingers between Erik’s. 

Erik comes like that, as if that were the last bit he needed to let go, spurting copiously onto the desk and squeezing Charles’ fingers between his own. The ink blotter is a lost cause. Charles keeps wanking him, and he keeps coming, dry, until he has to hoarsely plead for Charles to stop, wrung out to the point of almost being in a sort of exquisite pain. He wouldn’t have thought Charles had it in him. The combination of roughness and tenderness, fucking Erik as if he were some random omega while his caresses make it clear he’s anything but…. Erik can’t help being reminded of his naive youthful dreams of what it would be like, being with an alpha. Hopes he hadn’t let himself think about for years after the first few times proved less than wonderful. 

As Charles pulls out, running a hand down his flank and leaving Erik an exhausted and sloppy mess, Erik realizes dimly that he hasn’t been on any birth control in ages, and that at this very moment he could be carrying Charles Xavier’s offspring. He blinks, sweat starting to cool on his skin, trying to catch his breath. 

Somehow, whether due to the soup of hormones or something else, the idea doesn't seem that terrible.

Trembling a bit, lightheaded, Erik pushes himself up and turns as best he’s able to, sore and with his trousers around his thighs. Charles is doing up his fly, flushed, freckles standing out on his pink-and-cream skin, sweat darkening his hair at his temples. He’s not looking at Erik, expression abashed and jaw clenched. 

“Charles—” Erik’s voice is a rasp.

“I apologize, Erik,” Charles murmurs, still not looking at him. “I don’t know what came over me. I promise you, I’ll control myself from now on.”

Of course someone like Charles would experience guilt and regret after the fact for his hormone-induced alpha aggression. What a fascinating contrast to that display of domination, one that even now is making Erik’s knees wobble. 

“No, don’t,” Erik says, standing fully, cupping Charles’ jaw until those blue eyes meet his own. “Don’t you dare control yourself around me, Charles Xavier.” Erik bends to kiss him, and this time it’s a slow kiss, Charles clutching at his arm as he gets lost in it. Erik feels a tendril of his mind, his power, reaching out tentatively, and he hums. _Everything, all of you, I want everything_ , he thinks at Charles, who moans softly, fingers tightening their hold on his bicep for a moment before they relax. Erik can feel the relief washing over him. 

Charles breaks the kiss to blink at him, a smile hovering around his mouth. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, and naturally he has a handkerchief at the ready.

“Do you plan to erase their memories, Charles?” Erik asks as Charles wipes him clean, pausing every now and then to dot him with kisses. Erik does up his own zipper.

Charles hands him his turtleneck. “You know, actually,” he says, “I don’t think I will.” He looks up at Erik, brow raised, a bit smug but with something else in his eyes that makes Erik feel like the floor has dropped out beneath him. He touches Erik’s cheek. “I like everyone knowing you’re mine,” he murmurs.

Erik shrugs, feeling his ears turn red. “I suppose I could get used to that,” he allows.


End file.
